


Pretty Boy

by GarrieSun



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gift Fic, M/M, Street Fighter AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 02:06:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5188061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarrieSun/pseuds/GarrieSun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reluctant to fight, yet unwilling to take a certain insult lying down. Plus...a little hustling on the "side".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Ha h ha haha h ha I'm so creative with titles what haha ANYWAY. HAPPY BIRTHDAY MARS IF I DIDN'T FUCK UP AND YOUR SKYPE PROFILE IS RIGHT YAAAAHHHH EVERYONE GO WISH THEM HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY BRO IS THE B E S T OKAY ENJOY
> 
> ALSO just fyi violence isn't *that* graphic but idk that's up to your judgment @reader oops

_It sure is hot today_. Akaashi thought to himself as he strolled lazily down the street. The humid summer air seemed to follow him. It irked him, the way it clung to his skin, but at least he’d been able to get groceries before he ran out of real food.

Akaashi exhaled into the stagnant night air.  _At least it’s quiet out_ .

In a few moments, he realized he’d spoken, or rather thought, too soon. Akaashi heard faint sounds of footsteps on the uneven, gum-covered pavement break the silence, growing nearer by the second.  _The hell?_ He glanced furtively behind him, only to be met with the sight of an excited Bokuto running towards him.

 

“HEY HEY HEEEY!!! AKAASHIII!!!”

Akaashi only raised an eyebrow, indifference evident. “Good evening to you, too, Bokuto-san. What is it?”

Bokuto cleared the rest of the distance between them in record time, and gasped out, “So... hypothetically…”

Akaashi narrowed his eyes slightly. “By which you mean whatever it is actually happened. Okay, spit it out, what did you get into this time?”

Bokuto rubbed the nape of his neck awkwardly and gave him a sheepish grin as he caught his breath. “Uh… down the next street corner, behind the gas station at 9 tonight…”

Akaashi crossed his arms, clearly not amused. “Bokuto-san, you know how I feel about fighting.”

 

The latter appeared hesitant and spoke his next few words carefully. “But...they called you a...a pretty boy…”

Something appeared to flash behind Akaashi’s eyes, and his annoyed expression suddenly turned cold. He glanced at the clock above the supermarket. _8:30_. 

“Bokuto-san, come on. You know how this goes.” 

“Yep, I do!” Without further response, Akaashi turned in the direction of the gas station and began marching over, his posture unusually upright and rigid. Bokuto almost bounced as he followed eagerly, close behind.

\--

“Ohoho, hey you there, guy in the grey hoodie! You look like you like fights!”

“...Only ‘f there’re bets.”

“You ‘bet’ there are, pal.”

“Aw right, who’s fightin’, then?”

 

Bokuto smirked and directed the slouching passerby’s gaze to a growing circle of people loitering in the area, some standing adamantly near the center for a good view, others leaning languidly against the surrounding, rusty chain-link fence, evidently satisfied with just peering between heads.

In the center of the unruly circle were two starkly contrasting shapes. One was your typical burly meathead sort of guy--wearing a muscle tank, taking practice swings at the air, occasionally guffawing at his opponent, a crowd egging him on. The other was a skinny boy. He wasn’t exactly scrawny--he definitely had some muscle on him--but he seemed otherwise nothing short of ordinary. To the untrained eye, of course. The sloucher scoffed, and spat on the ground as he dug a stubby hand into his trouser pockets.

“Y’kiddin’? Obvious my money’s on the big guy.” He took a few crumpled bills out of his pocket and stuffed them in Bokuto’s hand, making his way over to the fence and nodding to those who looked familiar. Bokuto turned back to the restless crowd and grinned widely. “Got another bet against you, Akaashi!” The latter simply gave Bokuto a blank stare, as if in a trance, and turned back to his opponent. Bokuto curiously watched his friend, who was leaning his head to one side, as if contemplating his opponent. His eyes seemed empty, yet his gaze was resolute. Bokuto smirked and shook his head knowingly, then squinted at the red digital clock on the side of the gas station. _8:59_.

Bokuto’s face broke into an even wider grin and his tone changed instantaneously. “All right, everyone, it’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for! No. More. Bets.” he crowed, and the rowdy mass broke into scattered cheers of varying enthusiasm. “The first and _only_ fight tonight, right here behind the corner gas station. It’s _____, better known as the ‘Hammerhead’ versus...Akaashi “Pretty Boy” Keiji.”

 

The din of the crowd was nearly deafening, but Bokuto could have sworn he heard something snap from Akaashi’s general direction. Bokuto gulped and steeled himself. “Fighters ready…?” The Hammerhead stomped oafishly closer to Akaashi, and the smaller boy assumed something of a relaxed stance. The red numbers of the clock blinked. _9:00_.

“Start.”

\--

The hulking Hammerhead gave Akaashi a smug grin, as if he was about to play with his food. “Would hate to bruise that nice face of yours. Why don’t you hit me first, precious, so I won’t feel too bad for hitting it?” The disorderly gawkers behind him roared with laughter. He spread his arms out with a mocking snarl, jeering at his opponent.

“Come on, ‘ _pretty boy_ ’.”

 

That was all the provocation Akaashi needed. In an instant, he was poised just above the ground, leg outstretched, and he swung it in a clean, swift motion. His opponent was knocked off his feet, and he fell to the ground with the grace of a fish out of water, his limbs floundering. The crowd froze in a collective gasp for a moment, their shock evident--but boos and chants of "get up" followed, as well as a few already-disgusted spectators spitting on the ground and taking their leave. The beefy male let out something between a growl and a yelp, and sprang to his feet, lunging at his opponent’s face with his right fist. Akaashi simply moved his head to the side, indifferent expression unchanging. Then, in a seamless motion, he grabbed the attacker’s arm and threw him aside with ease. The Hammerhead stumbled and skidded across the uneven cement a few centimeters, and the slight crackle of gravel beneath his chin seemed deafening in the crowd's increasing silence.

 

“Aww, c’mon, big guy. _Tough_ guy. Is that really all you got?” A heckling voice rang out.

“Bokuto-san.”

“Okay, okay, sorry, Akaashi. Do your thing.”

\--

A hush fell over the back of the gas station as the Hammerhead staggered forward, and fell to the ground one last time, this time with a resounding thud. The last of the crowd gawked for a prolonged moment--still as the sticky summer night, now only disturbed by the muted din of crickets. They looked to Bokuto and a slowly-reverting Akaashi, some sort of indignation in their expressions, as if to say "you knew, didn't you", and slowly began to leave, one by one. The opponent's gang hoisted him over their shoulders and started for their homes, arguing over which of them had to clean up after him, yet never looking back at the duo to even try to provoke another fight. The stragglers gradually dwindled to none, and Akaashi finally turned to face Bokuto again.

 

The expression Akaashi wore was more unamused than weary, hinting at the reluctance he’d expressed before. But all he asked was, “Bokuto-san, the groceries?”

“Oh. Uhh…”

“You forgot to use the cooler again, didn’t you?”

“Sorry, Akaashi!” Bokuto clapped his hands together in apology. “But hey, we made enough tonight to cover, what? Maybe 10, maybe 20 more grocery trips?”

“...Still. We shouldn’t waste food.”

“Yeah, yeah, I guess you’re right.” Bokuto clasped Akaashi’s hand and began dragging him away from the station. “Come on, let’s go get some good stuff with this!!”

Akaashi smiled a little for the first time that night, as he allowed himself to be pulled along. “That doesn’t sound half bad right now.”

**Author's Note:**

> PRAYING THIS WASN'T SHITTY AND I DIDN'T FUCK UP SOME SHIT RIP


End file.
